Michonne stands on the edge of bathtub. Both hands firmly grip the shower rod. She hates this thing. If she had a power drill she would screw it into the wall, but she doesn't. She has to make do with this tension bar that keeps falling. Rick says she can use the master bath upstairs anytime she wants. She has taken him up on that more than once, but this bathroom is convenient and it's hers. No man hair, or man smells. She doesn't have to feel awkward when she washes out her underwear and hangs them on the towel racks. It's her own space.

She twists the rod this way and that, finally feeling the tightness against the walls. Slowly, she lets go. Hands in the air, she waits. Just as she lowers one foot to the floor, the rod slips and clangs into the tub.

"Damn it!"

"You okay?" A voice from the hallway startles her.

Rick is outside the partially opened bathroom door, but he isn't looking inside. Michonne adjusts the towel wrapped around her body, securing it.

"This shower rod is going to be the death of me."

"Need help?" he nudges the door open an inch.

"Uh, yeah, sure."

Rick pushes the door all the way open. Michonne turns her back to him, faces the tub, pretends she doesn't notice the quick once over he gives her.

"You take one side. I'll take the other," he says.

Michonne steps up on the right side of the tub. Rick holds the rod on the left. "The problem with trying to do this alone is my arms aren't long to tighten both sides evenly."

Rick grunts. "And your arms are pretty long."

"Are they?" She glances at him.

"Your wingspan is probably longer than mine." He chuckles.

"You make it sound like I have freakishly long—" She feels it then, the slip. The towel. She takes one hand off the rod, but quickly realizes she needs both hands. Rick's side wobbles when Michonne lets her side go.

"Grab it," she shouts.

Rick lets the rod drop and grabs hold of the back of Michonne's towel.

"Not my towel! The curtain rod."

"Oh! Sorry!" Rick lets go and steps backward, almost completely out of the bathroom.

With her back still to him, Michonne adjusts and secures her towel. She can feel the awkwardness creep into the bathroom. She turns and grins at him, trying to ignore the weird energy. He isn't looking at her, has become fascinated with a scuff that's been on his boot for years.

She sighs. "I'll just get a shower upstairs. Can you and Carl work on this while I'm doing that?"

"Yeah. Sure." He glances at her.

"It's time to change his bandage anyway. Have him wait for me in here."

Rick nods and flees. There is no other word for it. Michonne laughs to herself. She thinks it's cute that he's so old fashioned and bashful. That is what it is, right? She shakes it off and gathers her things for the shower.

Showered, dressed and teeth brushed, she returns to her bathroom. Carl sits on the closed toilet seat, waiting for her. The shower rod is up and perfectly symmetrical, not like when she puts it back up herself. One side is always higher than the other. Michonne goes to the medicine cabinet and retrieves gauze, a roll of bandages, ointment and a bottle of pills. She opens a drawer and grabs a pair of manicure scissors.

Carl has removed his bandage and eyepatch. The top of his hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, out of the way. It's long and flops from side to side when he moves his head.

Michonne washes her hands, dries them and steps closer to Carl. "You really should let me cut your hair."

He shakes his head, ponytail flopping like a happy dog's tail. "Not gonna happen. Quit asking."

She grins at him. This has become their daily exchange. "Okay. When people start calling you Rapunzel don't say I didn't offer."

Carl smirks, rolls his eye. "Might come in handy. You might be trapped and the only way to save you is to lower my hair so you can climb up."

She snorts a laugh. "Yeah? Well if that ever happens, you can say 'I told you so'."

"I will."

Michonne looks at the wound circling his right eye, the empty socket. She doesn't stare and she is careful not to look worried, angry or sad. Carl doesn't need her fear, anger or pity. He needs her to put this ointment on the area around his eye. He needs her to change his bandage. He needs her to love him. She does the first two efficiently, the latter constantly, unconditionally. She snips the end of the bandage, tucks it securely then pulls the band from his hair and ruffles his silky locks.

"I mean, I have scissors in my hand already. Snip, snip and it's done."

"Quit it, would you?" Carl stands, grinning at her. "I thought my dad was a nag."

Michonne grabs her chest in mock offense. "You wound me, sir. Deeply."

Carl bows, backing out of the bathroom. "Forgive me, my lady."

"Wait." She opens the pill bottle and dumps out two pills.

Carl shakes his head. "I'm good. I don't need them."

"You haven't had any headaches?"

Carl averts his eyes. "Not as many. Not like it was last month."

"When you get them, are they usually in the morning or at night?" She steps closer to him, all joking aside.

"Um…" Carl runs a hand through his hair, thinking. "If it's really sunny out then yeah, during the day. If not, then I'm good."

Michonne leans to her left, looks past him at all the sun streaming through the windows in the living room. She quirks a brow at him.

"My head doesn't hurt now. I feel fine."

"Carl. You and I both know that by the time you feel the headache it will be too far gone to do anything about it. I don't want a repeat of what happened last month."

She had found him on the bathroom floor, curled up in a sweaty ball, a pool of vomit around him. The headache was so profound he sobbed in her arms, begging her to do something. Next to the night he'd been shot, it was the scariest thing she'd ever experienced. Since then, she's been on him to take his medicine. It dawns on her now that he may not be following her demands.

"Carl, I don't want to nag you, strong-arm you, or disrespect you by treating you like a child, but I will do all of the above if it means keeping you well. Be the mature, responsible boy I know you are and do what you're supposed to do." She thrusts her hand forward, two white pills on her palm.

Carl takes them, pops them in his mouth, steps over to the sink and drinks from the tap. He straightens and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. "Do you want to check my mouth, make sure I swallowed them?" The corner of his mouth lifts.

Michonne shakes her head. "I trust you. Always have, always will." She pats his shoulder and steps past him, leaving him in the bathroom.

A/N: So I wrote this because I wanted to see this scene ever since Michonne said 'It's time to change your bandage' to Carl. To me, that speaks volumes to how close they are. Denise could do this for Carl. But this is something a mother does for her child.

As for the towel and shower rod scene with Rick… I feel like Rick HAS to have seen Michonne in only a towel before. I mean, they live together for crying out loud. She came to his bedroom door with only a bathrobe on. No way she had anything on under it either. Personally, the only thing that could have made that opening scene of 610 any better is if she came to his door with only a towel or a shorter robe. But maybe that's just me-LOL.

Coming Next: From the Couch to the Bed—what happened between the kiss on the couch and the overhead shot in the bed. I'm sure this has been done, but it's in my head and I want/need to write it. Then a few missing scenes will follow from the episodes after 610.